Episode I: The Flickering Flame
by Belisuavious
Summary: This is a complete, ground up rewrite of the series, based on some conversations with my closest friends. Hopefully reworking the prequels into something good, and the original trilogy into something even better. Please Rate and Review. Re-upload of a story after some edits and changes.
1. Chapter 1

Images flickered across the screen in quick succession. A burning document, symbolic but a good symbol. Graceful fighters in chrome and yellow lifting off and taking to the skies. Explosions from orbit as the Starfighters destroyed the station the Trade Federation had installed in orbit to collect tariffs and tax the ships coming and going. Over it all, the manifesto of the previous king was read out.

"No more will we be subject to your whims! No more will my people slave away in the mines to feed your business! No longer will we live under your booted heel and thank you for the opportunity! Your exploitation of the Naboo ends HERE!"

That wasn't the proper manifesto of course, but it made for good propaganda. The real one was much longer and went into much more detail about the need of the Naboo to rise up and reclaim independence. To that end the Old King, as he was known, who had been placed in power because he was the most willing to deal with the Trade Federation, was overthrown in a popular uprising led by House Amidala who had decided that the fortunes of the Naboo would rest on their shoulders alone. Terral Amidala had taken the first steps toward integrating the world of Naboo and the Chommel Sector into the Republic at large, especially with the plasma mines looking for sellers, and Sector Defence Forces eyeing up the N1 Starfighter designs that had shaken the galaxy so much, packing much more firepower than size would suggest.

That had occurred ten years ago, and as it was an internal matter, and as the Naboo had paid "compensation for lost foreign property while in a period of civil unrest", there was nothing, legally speaking, that could be done. Besides, many in the Outer Rim and even the less well-off expansion region systems applauded the action. The Trade Federation had begun as a method of controlling the price gouging, the market manipulation, and the exploitation of planets that had been the norm. As the years wore on, they became the very thing they had fought against, and this time there was no senate initiative to stop them. Their influence awarded them a senate seat, and their wealth allowed them to block or at least drag down initiatives that would regulate them more heavily. So the destruction of one of their Raw Material Initiatives by the very people it exploited was covertly celebrated, even if it was officially condemned.

Then Terral was assassinated. Of course, it didn't appear to be an assassination, but then again, the best ones never do. Shipping containing the Naboo exports was beginning to be attacked with greater frequency. Piracy was on the rise as a whole, but this seemed especially targeted. Terral was the great liberator, the Warrior-King who had drawn on legends of the sleeping protector to rally the people to his cause, could never back down from a challenge. He knew, or believed he knew, who was really behind this. So he led the counter-piracy campaigns within his sector from the cockpit of his specially modified N1 Starfighter, and smashed the raiders in battle after battle, until one day the raiders sprung a trap, overwhelmed the small Naboo fleet, and killed the king, destroying much of the Naboo space fleet. Pirate raids on Naboo shipping went on, but at a much reduced rate, while representatives from the Trade Federation went to meet with the successor of Terral, his young daughter Padmé Amidala.

The mission briefing was laid down on the table. It had been reviewed dozens of times before on the trip to Naboo, and the young man who had put it down knew in his heart that he could recite it word for word by now. It was a crutch, he knew that, but he was nervous. A hand went to his head, just behind his right earlobe where only a week before his Padawan braid had hung. A week before he would have given it a reassuring little tug, but his master had knighted him shortly before leaving on this journey. It was a little unorthodox while at the same time being the traditional way for a Padawan to become a Knight. Master Qui-Gon was odd like that at times, and according to some of the whispers he hadn't listened too, either a rabble rousing anarchist or a reforming crusader that the dogmatic Order needed. Obi-Wan had ignored that. As far as he was concerned, he had been lucky to become Qui-Gon's apprentice, and believed he had learned more from him than any other Padawan his age had learned from their master. A slight smile crossed his face. Of course, any other Padawan his age would argue the same for their master. Though many would come to envy Obi-Wan's knighting ceremony.

The full council, the long ritual, the fasting and the meditation admittedly had a certain appeal, and the sight of a full council in the dark council chamber lit only by their lightsabers could be a chilling effect. Master Qui-Gon believed that it was a much less intimate setting than it should be, that the right of knighting a Jedi was the prerogative of Jedi who had trained the Padawan, not the Council. So Obi-Wan's ceremony had occurred just before the two of them left, in the Temple Port. He had been ordered to kneel, clasp his hands within his masters and utter an oath.

"Be without fear in the face of your enemies  
Speak the Truth, no matter the cost to yourself  
Safeguard the helpless, and do no wrong."

"This is your oath" Master Qui-Gon had told him, his voice firm and commanding. "And this is how you remember it." With sudden speed he delivered a backhand to his apprentice's face. Obi-wan had swayed, shook his head, and beamed up at his master. Qui-Gon ignited his lightsaber, and with an almost casual flick of his wrist, severed the Padawan braid. "Rise a Knight." He gave his final order from master to apprentice, and extended his hand, pulling to their feet not his Padawan now, but his partner.

It had drawn quite a crowd from the technicians to other Jedi who were leaving or returning from official business. Some, a few, looked impressed. Others, not so much. But a quick search through the archival data he could retrieved before they made the jump to hyperspace revealed that the only other person to be knighted in such a manner in the past thousand years had been Qui-Gon Jinn himself by his master, Jedi Master Dooku.

"Have you memorized it already Obi-Wan?" Came an almost soft voice from the doorway.

"Just about master-" Obi-Wan began, then attempted to correct himself. Qui-Gon held up a hand.

"I still call Master Dooku 'master' and I haven't been his apprentice for over forty years. I'm honoured that you still hold that respect for me." A smile crossed his face. "Now, tell me, what do you think of the situation on Naboo?"

"Well, it seems that there is potential for violence, though I'm more concerned about what may happen instead."

"You fear the Queen will be taken advantage of because of her youth?"

"Not youth, but grief. Her father has just died and she still may be in shock."

"So what is our task then?"

"To… provide a stabilising influence on any trade discussions?"

A small look crossed Qui-Gon's face. Obi-Wan lived for such looks, they told him his master was impressed, that he had done a good job. "And to remind both sides that they are part of the Republic, to dissuade threats, and be a witness." Qui-Gon finished. "Essentially, we're there to keep them both honest."

Obi-Wan gave a slight grin. "That shouldn't be too difficult master."

"You know, I was afraid you'd say that. You should get some rest, we'll be dropping out of hyperspace soon, and I want you at your best."

The _Consular_ -Class ship, dark red in official Republic colours, exited hyperspace with a slight lurch, and appeared on the scanners of the Trade Federation bulk cruiser as a tiny blip on the radar. The bulk cruiser, one of the _Lucrehulk_ -Class battleships modified to carry enormous amounts of cargo, had been stripped of much of its weaponry to comply with private ship regulations, but that still meant it bristled with laser cannons. Capturing one of these ships was the dream of every pirate warlord, as the profits from such an operation would allow one to retire comfortably – and safely – beyond the vengeful reach of the Trade Federation. To date, none had been taken in the two centuries of Trade Federation dominance. All who had tried were killed, hunted down and executed. The Trade Federation did not like to lose.

"The Republic diplomats have arrived Sir." The metallic voice of a security droid buzzed to life. A pair of long, cylindrical amphibious faces turned to acknowledge the sound, and returned to their conversation, perhaps a bit more urgently than before.

"I'm telling you," one said, his voice almost a croak "we cannot bully our way into the system again. You must reconsider!"

"And _I'M_ telling _YOU_ ," the other replied in the same croaky wheeze "that we will go ahead as planned. The one who contracted us for this job is not one we could walk away from."

"Not even the Hutts have that much power!" The advisor protested.

"This one is no Hutt! He is beyond even them. We do this job, but then, when all is said and done, we retire." A shudder passed through his body.

"Not getting cold feet are we?" A dark, growly voice uttered from the empty space behind them. They hadn't noticed the small noise the holo-emitter made when it engaged, and so they sudden appearance of a cloaked and hooded figure terrified them. The advisor let out a small moan of terror, while the other swallowed several times before managing to speak.

"No my lord, not at all" he said, stuttering a little as he spoke. His lips were not used to speaking Galactic Basic, and so he stumbled on perhaps more words than he had hoped. "Just some nervous jitters before we go into action."

"I hope so Gunray." The voice spoke. It did not need to add ' _For your sake_ ', as the meaning was clear to any who cared to listen. Gunray and his advisor were listening very carefully. "Proceed as planned."

"But what about the diplomats?" the advisor asked, his voice trembling.

On a being less terrifying, the shape made with his mouth would have been called a smile. "Deal with them, Gunray." The sort of threats one could have expected did not come. They radiated from the words and became an unspoken guarantee, a display of power in that he did not need to speak threats for you to take him seriously.

As the hologram flickered out of existence, the two Nemoidians sagged a little, Gunray steadying himself against the bulkhead.

"We will not survive this." His assistant moaned.

Privately, Gunray agreed. But he couldn't say so. "Quiet! We'll have to figure out a way to deal with these ambassadors."

"But if he does not hold up his end-"

"He will! He must." Gunray exclaimed, hoping he was right.


	2. Chapter 2

In the Royal Palace of Theed, capital city of Naboo, there was a flurry of activity. The queen was receiving an embassy from the old enemy, and there were standards to be kept up.

"No, Minister Bibble, we will not be taking down the black banners." Padmé's voice, clear and commanding rang out across the assembly room. The Queen had gathered her advisors and council members around her, many of them comrades of her father during the revolt against the Trade Federation or the pirate wars after. She had the feeling that, while many were loyal to the idea of her father, or even House Amidala, they may not have cared for her personally. Still, she had to trust them, to a degree at least. They were capable men and she needed them to hold the planet together.

"But my lady, should we not show strength in the face of their representatives?" Sifo Bibble asked, Prime Minister of Naboo. "If we leave the mourning banners up, we will seem like a people weakened by grief."

"Are we not grieving Minister? My father is dead, murdered perhaps by the very people we will soon be meeting with." They think me a child, she realized. Two years shy of twenty was a young age, but she had been educated in some of the finest schools in the Core, accompanied her father on dozens of diplomatic appearances and sat in on numberless council meetings. She knew what she was doing. She hoped.

"We must remind them of who we are, and where we are coming from!" General Typho exclaimed. He was a recent promotion, the last holder of his position as head of Naboo's armed forces having died in the same attack that killed her father. He was a younger man and though older than Padmé, he had the same difficult battle of showing these old men and women that he was more than a jumped up child.

"And just who are we?"Lufta Shif, and older woman who served as Minister of Education asked with the slightest inflection. She was of an old family, and hers had benefitted more from the Trade Federation than others. She had thrown herself behind the Amidala cause, but not immediately. Typho suppressed a glare and settled for simply running a hand by his right eye, or where it would have been, making it look like he was scratching an itch but drawing attention to his bionic eyepatch and a lattice of scars around the right side of his face, souvenirs of his time served.

Horace Vancil, current head of House Vancil and Minister of Finance, lost no occasion to lock horns with House Shif, in a rivalry stretching back generations. "Yes Lufta, we must demonstrate that we are the same people who threw those thieving merchants out last time." In a quieter voice, though no doubt carefully pitched so all could hear it, he added: "Or some of us are, anyway."

Lufta bristled, and Kyu Tane, Minister of Culture, nearly leapt to his feet. The old rivalries ran deep, and the ancient system of political and personal alliances ran deeper. Padmé stood instead, and waited as quiet settled about the table.

"Ministers. May I remind you that we are preparing to receive an envoy of the Trade Federation, and so have better things to discuss. We are NOT re-treading old battlefields. Am I clear?" Though it was a question, the durasteel in her voice caused no dissenting views.

A chorus of "Yes, Your Grace" entered the silence that followed her words. She was, after all, her father's daughter, even if her ministers needed to be reminded from time to time. She let the silence drag on for a moment, before carefully sitting again. The sudden motion in standing had nearly upset the elaborate headdress her handmaidens had prepared. Fortunately she had was able to get away with a less complex one for this meeting and the meeting with the Trade Federation. The more elaborate ones, she could barely move in.

"General Typho, has there been any more trouble with the Gungans?" The question entered the silent council chamber like an explosion, though it was said in a conversational tone. A few of the ministers jumped.

"No, my Queen. Nothing out of the ordinary." The general responded. Everyone knew that that meant the numberless small skirmishes and raids that erupted between the Naboo and the Gungan tribes continued on as normal. It was frustrating, as one day there could be trade, and the next day the same traders would lead the warriors into the encampment. Peace could exist, but it seemed that both sides didn't it all that badly, and it looked as though the Gungan conflicts among the frontier Naboo settlements would continue for generations yet.

"Are there many casualties?"

"No, though the raids seem to be stepping up in frequency. There have been requests for Royal Guardsmen to aid in the defense of the settlements."

"How many can we spare?"

"My Queen, can this not wait until after the meeting with the Trade Federation?" Prime Minister Bibble broke in.

"Prime Minister, we fought to free our people from the exploitation of the Trade Federation. I will not see them hunted down by the Gungan raiders."

"Many of the settlers are immigrants from the planets of the Expansion Region as well. Perhaps nobody of note, or they wouldn't be in a Naboo frontier settlement but they do have friends and contacts where they moved from. They've been an immense boost to the economy of both their communities and the planet as well." Horace Vancil spoke up. Padmé made a quick mental note as the Economic Minister called up the relevant information to the holoprojector in the middle of the table; Vancil was an argumentative one who enjoyed picking up old feuds or starting new ones, but there was a reason he was given this job.

"I won't be boring anyone with the details, but suffice to say, the goodwill of these people and the availability of land to settle has been a boon to us, especially as it puts Naboo on the radar of more technically skilled immigrants. For instance, the man who designed the fountain system in the Royal Parks was born and raised on Chandrila. He came here because a friend of a friend told him about us, and he saw the old senate reports about the 'local uprising'." Vancil pointed at the relevant notes as he spoke.

Silence reigned for a moment, then Padmé stepped in to fill the gap. "Thank you Minister. Now, General Typho, how many can we spare?"

"I'd have to consult the officers for the real strength of the units to get proper numbers My Queen, but I believe that we can send out one hundred Royal Guardsmen, as well as about twenty pilots, for reconnaissance work. Again, I'll need to consult with my officers but it will be approximately that many."

"Thank you General Typho." Padmé said, concealing her slight irritation. She liked Typho, he was a friendly man and easygoing too. And honest, if she was as good a judge of character as she believed. But there was a certain lack of formality, a lack of respect for her rank that wasn't enough to raise a fuss over but still enough to irritate her. Could it be intentional? She'd have to have a word with him in private. Respect for her station and the memory of her father were what kept the rest in line, and she couldn't risk losing control.

"Consult with your officers and have an exact number sent up to me. I will prepare a speech to reassure the colonists that help is on the way." Padmé stood. "That will be all for today, Ministers. We will reconvene when we receive contact from the Trade Federation. Good Day."

She stood as her council filed out, then slumped into a chair. How had her father done it? Being a semi-mythical saviour probably helped came the thought as her mouth curved up in a small smile, thinking of her father referring to himself as that one night as he had been instructing her in the art of rulership. The smile fell away quickly.

"Why were you taken from me so soon?" She whispered into the empty room. Almost unaware of what she was doing, a hand reached for her neck and tugged loose the pouch she had hung there. Her fingers unlaced the pouch like they had the hundreds of times she had done this since he died. Inside was a ring, one of a matched pair her father had had made. The two were a perfect match, and there were no others like it in the galaxy. "To remind you I always have time for my daughter." He had said as he presented it to her.

She had the only one now. The other had been lost, probably melted or destroyed alongside her father and the rest of his ship.

She was glad of the lack of official makeup. Tears streamed down her face as she brought the ring to her chest and held it there, allowing herself to be a young girl who had lost her father. Just for a moment, before she slipped the mask of Queenliness back on.


	3. Chapter 3

"Master, I don't like this." Obi-wan said in a low voice. "They've kept us waiting for hours longer than the others we've met with have."

"Patience Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon responded. He was reclining in one of the chairs in an easy slouch that allowed him to relax and yet still spring into action when necessary. Obi-Wan in contrast was pacing irritably back and forth across the conference room. "Admire the view, take a seat. Watch a video on the holonet."

"Qui-Gon, we've been kept waiting for six hours in this room."

"Yes. They're unaware of our status and want us to sweat a bit. You're letting them win."

That stopped Obi-Wan in his tracks. "They must know who we are. Jedi Knights are the only beings in the galaxy that use ships with our markings!"

"But…?" Qui-Gon led. After a moment of thought, Obi-Wan did not disappoint.

"But we aren't listed as Jedi Knights, we're listed as the 'supervisors of negotiations'. We weren't announced as Jedi Knights but diplomats. Officially we're nothing more than state functionaries."

Qui-Gon's lips turned upwards, briefly. Obi-Wan had more truth in that statement than he knew, but now was not the time to begin a discussion of the Jedi Order. "And so we are treated like state functionaries. Normally it isn't this bad but I have a feeling the Trade Federation isn't willing to be polite. Besides, the only reason they agreed to submit to a Republic arbitration of their meeting was because they didn't know we are Jedi. Now that they do know, they've been thrown for a bit of a loop."

Obi-Wan slumped into a chair, feeling defeated. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the door hissed open. A protocol droid entered, with the awkward half walk half waddle common to the droids.

"Greetings. I am C7-B1Q. Is there anything required by the Ambassadors at this time?"

"Now we're getting somewhere." Qui-Gon muttered as he stood. "Not at this time, but we are eager to meet with the delegates who are being sent to the planet." His voice was loud and clear now, with a commanding tone. "Take us to the meeting room."

"Sir, I must apologize for the wait, but the Trade Federation delegates wish me to inform you that they did not realise that they would be meeting with Jedi Knights, and so have been trying to arrange a way to meet you with someone of stature worthy of your noble order."

Something in the message made Obi-Wan frown. The droid wasn't speaking in anything other than a tinny monotone, but somehow the threat was there. The universe seemed to slow, and he began noticing everything about the droid. The walk was unbalanced, a panel was improperly placed, and there was a strange methodology to the droids speech. "Master…" he began, but Qui-Gon was already moving.

Forewarned of the impending danger by the Force, and by his decades of experience, Qui-Gon had closed the distance between himself and the droid, and as the robot finished speaking, Qui-Gon flung out a hand concentrated for the briefest moment. The droid was flung back into the hall, and Qui-Gon ducked out of the doorway. Obi-Wan hit the floor a second later.

The explosion rocked the room and left the young Jedi Knight dazed and holding his ears. He closed his eyes and concentrated, willing his body, aided by the years of training and the will of the Living Force itself, to repair the ringing in his ears.

He stood, swaying momentarily before the damage was fixed, or at least patched up. He'd need to see a medic as soon as possible, but that would have to wait. His dark-blue lightsaber sprang into view with a gentle _thrum_ of power that was felt as much as heard. Qui-Gon was already up, his emerald green weapon flashing as red blaster bolts shot into the room. Giving his head a shake to clear the last of the dizziness he sprang to the side of his master, throwing out his palm and frowning with the effort it took to throw the half-dozen droids against the wall.

They were spindly constructs, resembling the exoskeleton of their builders, the insectoid Geonosians. Cheap, simple to program and far better at taking and interpreting orders than their low cost implied, they were the bread and butter of the Trade Federation defenses. Cheap to buy and easy to store they were packed aboard every freighter and unloaded to deal with threats along the way. Against pirates or other such bandits, the large number of skeletal droids, advancing as a swarming mass firing their blaster carbines, it worked like a charm. Against a pair of Jedi Knights, they were much less effective. Before they could stand again, the two Jedi had dispatched them.

"So much for negotiations." Muttered Obi-Wan. "Master, we need to get to the ship before –" his words were cut off as the two felt a slight pang in their chests. Torran and Fycel, the two pilots who had ferried the two Jedi on over a score of missions, and other Jedi on hundreds more, had died, violently.

"Too late for that now. Come, we need to get to the command hub. If we can get close to the Nemoidians in charge of this ship we can still salvage things peacefully."

Qui-Gon took off down the hall, leaving Obi-Wan to follow him a second later. How were they to salvage things peacefully if the ship had been destroyed and an attempt made on their life was beyond him. Still, Qui-Gon had always come out on top before.

"Are they dead?" A different advisor, though much the same in appearance to the first, appeared to bring Gunray an answer.

"We're not sure. The cameras were taken down before the firing had finished."

"They did not die in the explosion." Gunray muttered angrily. "Find them! We must not let them escape. Are we able to block their comm units?"

"Not without interfering with our own broadcasts Chairman." Seeing the look of fury on Nute Gunray's face, he quickly added "But unless they left a ship in the system to relay their signals, they won't be able to raise Courescant with what they have."

This seemed to appease Gunray, though not much. He regretted the bomb almost immediately, and while it could be said by an outside observer that two angry Jedi Knights on his ship were more of a danger than one shadowy being somewhere in the galaxy, any who thought that had not met the shadowy figure.

"Begin the landing. Fringe regions of the civilized zones, as we planned. The locals have been paid off so we'll be landing unopposed."

"Yes Chairman."

Two minutes later, three dozen more _Lucrehulk_ battleships appeared in the system, waiting for the signal a microjump away. From their holds came scores of transport ships, each filled with battalions of the skeletal security droids hastily modified to act as a field army, alongside hovertanks and troop transports. Aboard the command ship, though less were aboard, the battalions were formed up, folded into their transports, and launched as well. The transports headed to the surface, while the lumbering ring shaped battleships flew slowly to take up blockade positions. In a matter of hours, Naboo would be cut off from the rest of the galaxy and have foreign troops on the ground.

Aboard the command ship, the two Jedi were fighting their way to the bridge to prevent just that. It was slow going, as time went on and more and more of the onboard security was activated. Frail as they were it took time, precious time, to fight through them. It piled up, as the time they were delayed was time spent activating and organizing stiffer resistance in the next passage.

"Master, we're getting bogged down." Obi-Wan exclaimed, his breath becoming slightly more difficult to regain.

"I must admit this ship is larger than expected."

Obi-Wan did not have the energy to appreciate his former master's sense of humour. "What do we do?"

Qui-Gon thought for a moment, as he withdrew his lightsaber from the smoldering wreck of a fallen droid. "What if we try for a ship?"

"Will we be able to make it to hyperspace with anything we could steal from here?"

Qui-Gon took a deep breath as he deactivated his lightsaber. It seems age was catching up to him again, which meant it was time for him to speed up again. He smiled.

"Master, I know that smile." Obi-Wan groaned, almost to himself.

"We're not going to try running back to the senate."

Obi-Wan sighed. "We're going down there, aren't we?"

"We were sent to meet with both the queen and the head of the Trade Federation. Seeing as how the latter is, well, indisposed, we may as well get on with our mission."

Obi-Wan felt his mouth hang open for a moment. Then he shook his head. As far as plans went, it was a mild and perfectly sensible one. And even if it wasn't, Qui-Gon had led him through worse situations and they always managed to come out on top. "The hanger's back the way we came." He said instead.

"Good. That should surprise them."

He's enjoying this, Obi-Wan thought. He's actually enjoying himself now more than when they had sat down to negotiate.

"My Queen!" The speaker burst into the room where Padmé was having her regalia applied, a laborious process that took hours and needed a handful of attendants to get just right. It was a cumbersome affair but it lent weight to her office.

Padmé turned to see a young man in the uniform of the Royal Guards. "General Typho sends his regards, and wishes to inform you of a communications interruption."

Padmé stood, her headpiece wobbling slightly at the speed. "What do you mean interruption?"

"The sensors and comm links have been shut down somehow. He thinks we're being jammed but beyond that, we have no information. Planetary communications are working as normal, but anything beyond the atmosphere is inoperable. He believes it to be the work of the Trade Federation."

Padmé swore under her breath. How could she not have seen something like this happening? "Thank you, and send my thanks to General Typho as well. Summon my council, we will need to figure out how to respond."

"Yes my lady." The guardsman bowed and hurried out. He was worried, Padmé could see that from across the room. She gritted her teeth. What was their goal? Intimidation? Invasion? She didn't know, and if she responded the wrong way it could either lead to another war her people weren't ready for yet, or allow them to be conquered with little to no difficulty.

"It might be best, I think, to remove most of the regalia." She said to her attendants. No matter what happened, she would need to move quickly. Her handmaidens, hearing the grim tone of her voice, hurried to follow her commands.

The ship they had stolen was a finicky beast. Either that, or Obi-Wan hadn't quite gotten the hang of flying it yet. Qui-Gon on the other hand seemed to have taken to the dorsal turret just fine, and had so far been able to keep the fighters that had launched in their wake off his back long enough to get the craft up to evasion speed. Not that the transport ship had much of that, and Obi-Wan was pushing it for everything it could give.

"Obi-Wan, how much further to the atmosphere?"

"Just a few more minutes Master!" Obi-Wan shouted back. He didn't add the "I hope" but it didn't seem to need mentioning. There hadn't been a great selection in the hanger, and most of the ships docked there were droids. This transport, obviously used for VIP's was the only one they could get to in time. And VIP's travel in comfort, not speed. At least it had shields.

An explosion rocked the ship. Had shields indeed. "Master, the shields are gone!" Obi-Wan yelled back to the turret. Qui-Gon responded with a string of words that would have had all the council members barring Master Windu sputtering in indignation.

"How long Obi-Wan!"

"Nearly there!"

They did make it to the atmosphere, but unlike the battle droids, money had not been skimped in the design of the star fighters. Despite needing to slow down to enter the atmosphere, they continued on in pursuit, if perhaps a bit less maneuverable or fast as before. A final explosion sent the transport ship careening out of control and towards a dense swamp. Obi-Wan fought determinedly to keep the spiralling fall oriented towards the Theed spaceport but to no avail. He passed out from the spinning moments before the crash.

The council meeting was convened quickly. The opening chatter was cut short by the commanding voice of Padmé. "My councillors!" Her voice, trained for years by some of the best speakers available, cut right to the point. "Our long range communications and our sensors are lost. The question is, is this an intimidation tactic or the precursor to an invasion?"

"What difference does it make?" Bibble asked, his voice angry. "Either way, this is an act of aggression we cannot ignore!" There were some murmurs of assent.

Padmé did not answer the question. Instead, she turned to General Typho, and asked one of her own. "General, what do you believe our chances of winning a war with the Trade Federation to be? Lacking the surprise of my father, and keeping in mind that if they have come to invade us, they will be bringing their considerable resources to bear." She had had this discussion, or a hurried and key point version of it, just before the meeting began. She knew the answer already, but wanted to spell out the circumstances for her councillors.

"My Queen, I believe the odds are heavily not in our favour." Typho replied.

Padmé raised her voice to overcome the babble that sprang up. "And why is that General?"

"It's a matter of numbers My Queen. We don't have the numbers, in either ships or pilots, to keep them from landing forces, not if they bring more than a pair of their ships. They've knocked out our sensors as well, keeping us from concentrating our efforts on their forces as we land. On the ground, the only professional soldiers we have are the Royal Guard, and the largest concentration of them, here in Theed, numbers only three hundred. The remaining two thousand are spread across the planet, protecting the frontier towns or garrisoning outposts. We simply do not have the numbers to hold them off, let alone win."

"So you see, Prime Minister, why it is so important that we discover whether they are invading us, or simply trying to intimidate us. We have no proof that it was the Trade Federation, nothing beyond our suspicions, and if we begin firing and are wrong, we'll not only be starting a war we cannot win, but we will be held accountable for it in the eyes of the Senate."

The silence was broken by the sound of a commlink beeping. General Typho plucked his from his belt and looked at Padmé, for permission. At her nod, he answered.

"This is General Typho, report?"

He left the commlink speakers on full, allowing all around the table to hear it. "General, our scouts have spotted ships touching down some of the further settlements all across the continent. The fighter screens are too thick for our pilots to get close, all the reports we have are of hundreds of ships touching down across the continent."

The faces around the table were grim. "What are we going to do?" Councillor Vancil wondered aloud. Everyone seemed to be thinking the same thing. There was nowhere near enough soldiers on all of Naboo to contain the invasion, even if there was half the number of ships their scouts believed there to be. It was Sifo Bibble that spoke up.

"My Queen, you must get to the Senate." His voice broke the heavy silence around the table. "The sooner they hear of this, this utter breach of sovereignty, the sooner the Trade Federation will be forced to stand down. Senator Palpatine is a popular man in the Senate House, and you yourself are a talented speaker." He took a breath, looking around at the other council members at the table. He held each of their gazes for a moment before moving on. Another breath, and he spoke again. "We will stay here, and try to organize the defense, whatever is possible, and hold on until you get back."

Padmé, though shocked, managed to keep her composure, somehow. She stood, to address the council. "Thank you, Prime Minister. I do not wish for any here to stay if they do not wish it, and so if anyone here would like to come with me to the Senate, I would find your help as welcome as Prime Minister Bibble would." This caused a number of excited glances around the table, but none of them seemed to want to be the first to step up and flee the planet. Which suited Padme just fine, as she would rather have them here on the planet and using their resources and still extensive patronage network of their family lands and businesses. "Prime Minister, I need you to prepare an announcement to the populace, have it ready in fifteen minutes. Let them know what is happening, and where to go if they want to fight. General Typho, I need you to make an assessment of the total troops. Try and update me as often as you can, but I'll be leaving as soon as I can. Get me that information. Everyone else, get in contact with your families, your holdings, your lands. You will need resources to run an effective guerrilla war. Let me make this clear: This government is not fallen. You will hold on to control of this land until I return and have the Trade Federation expelled. As in any other situation where I were to leave, Prime Minister Bibble is my voice. General Typho, you are his second. I expect you to lead the fight. If we do not meet again, let me say that it was a pleasure serving with you. I formally close this council, and wish you all the best of luck."

There almost a scramble to get out of the room, and get out of Theed to their estates. General Typho rushed off to complete his report, beginning the task of collecting, filtering, and assessing the varied reports coming in. Sifo Bibble remained, to give Padmé a slow, almost sad, handshake.

"I wish you luck. Your father would be so proud of you."

Padmé was silent, and felt tears welling up. She blinked them back, and nodded. Bibble left the room as well, and Padmé took a deep breath, steadied her breathing and left the council chamber as well, quickly leaving to organize what she refused to call running away. It was a setback, nothing more.


	4. Chapter 4

He woke with a groan. The cockpit had protected him from the crash, somehow. His entire body felt like a walking bruise, and an experimental push at the debris trapping him in the pilot's seat caused him to shout out in pain. Grabbing a part of the restraint and shoving it between his teeth, he bit down and tried again. His face twisted into a grimace of pain as he pushed, but with a sudden effort his legs were freed. As he lay back in the seat, breath coming heavily, he pulled the restraint out of his mouth to discover that he had nearly bit through the entire thing! Breath now coming in ragged gasps, he stood, or tried to and discovered he had done so too quickly. A few stumbling steps out of the cockpit and into the dense marsh left his head spinning and vision narrowing. There, he saw, was a firm bit of ground. Sluggishly, through the soft mud and knee deep water, his head pounding, Obi-Wan made his way to the firmer, and perhaps a bit dryer ground. He made the last few stumbling steps and then blackness overtook him.

He woke once more, though feeling better this time as the force helped his body to recover, to see the metallic legs of a battle droid.

"This one's alive." The tinny voice reported into a commlink. They were using a sort of AI then, not being directly commanded from the command ship, a small part of Obi-Wan's brain noted. Two more sets of legs appeared. Breathing deep, Obi-Wan prepared to spring up, however much his body protested.

As it turned out, he didn't need to. A sharp crack entered the clearing where he lay, and one of the droids was knocked backwards, what looked like a spear jutting from its chest. A ululating war cry erupted from the underbrush and something sprang out. It was a large creature, easily seven feet tall with muscles to match. In one hand it held a spear, the other a sort of mace or club. The fight was over in a moment, as soon as the creature covered the distance to the droids. One was left with a spear embedded inside of it, the other had a head crushed by the mace. It stood, arms thrown back and gave a victory cry to the heavens. It was a strange creature, and Ob-Wan would have guessed amphibious from the skin. Bipedal, it was almost human-like except for the head. An elongated face, like some sort of lizard, led to a pair of stalk mounted eyes that even now swiveled independent of each other to survey the clearing for more threats. What appeared to be ears, though they could have been anything as far as Obi-Wan knew, hung down it's back.

The creature stuck his spear in the dirt point first and knelt down beside Obi-Wan. Then it spoke, galactic basic which was remarkable, to someone in the bushes. The 's' sounds were elongated and often ended in an a, and it blended words together phonetically but it was still galactic basic.

"Is dissa him?" The voice was higher than he would have expected from the size of the creature.

Then Obi-Wan heard a voice that made him sit upright far too quickly again. "Yes, that's him. Thank you Jar-Jar." Qui-Gon stepped from the brush.

"Master Qui-Gon! How did you survive the crash! And who is this?" The words came out in a rush as Obi-Wan swayed with dizziness.

"This is Jar Jar Binks, a native of the Gungan tribes of this region. I saved him from a droid patrol that had stumbled across him and now he wants to repay me. Now, let's try and get you fixed up."

Qui-Gon knelt beside Obi-Wan and placed his hands on his head. Qui-Gon's eyes closed and he seemed to enter a sort of trance. Energy flooded into Obi-Wan, as Qui-Gon drew power from the living force and pushed it into his former apprentice. His head rapidly cleared. There would be a price to pay for this later, as his body finally realised that he needed rest, but for a few hours he could function at full capacity. Hopefully it would be enough.

Qui-Gon let his hands fall with a small sigh. He too would need to rest later, though not because he was drawing on the force to heal him. "Now come on, Jar Jar tells me Theed is nearby. You did well, we crashed near the edge of the swamp."

"Will we be walking the whole way?"

Qui-Gon smiled his little smile. "No, while Jar Jar was saving you, I was acquiring a transport."

The speeder, racks normally used for stowing a squad of droids cleared by a few quick swings of a lightsaber, sped along the open plains towards Theed. Obi-Wan and Jar Jar hung on to the rails as Qui-Gon sped across the plain. Obi-Wan had succeeded, temporarily, in getting some information out of the normally quiet Gungan.

"So that's why you've been banished?" He asked, incredulous. He had seen some strange reasons for exile in his time, but clumsiness was a new one.

The Gungan gave small smile. "Yah, I trippenfall into the bedroom offa da princess. Den, ayaaccidentally stabbed her husband whensa he appears."

Obi-Wan's eyebrows rose. He sensed more to this story, though the Gungan didn't seem to be lying. Still, their new companion seemed to have been high ranking among his tribe for banishment to be the only punishment for not only sleeping with the princess but killing her husband, and his weapons though primitive, were of high quality and obviously well cared for. Best not to complain, seeing as he was a skilled warrior who had saved his life. Jar Jar settled back against the railing, obviously pleased with impressing this offworld warrior.

A thought struck the young Jedi as he looked at the speeder they had stolen. He raised his voice to reach Qui-Gon. "Master, don't these transports carry more droids?"

Qui-Gon gave a small laugh, but did not respond. Jar Jar did however. "Deysa came after me. Qui-Gon," he pronounced the name with great difficulty, though with obvious respect, "showed upsand weesa finish the rest. Den wego looking for you."

Obi-Wan opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. He had been unconscious longer than he had thought. Still, at least he knew he was in good company.

Their transport was not built for speed, but for carrying platoons of droids around, but without the added weight of the hundred-odd droids the speeder was considerably lighter, and made good time across the open plains leading to Naboo. Fields, the grains and vegetables nearly ready for harvest, rippled as they sped by. Settlements, apparently empty, dotted the plain. This strange dichotomy, the presence of life with the utter absence of the living, unnerved the young Jedi, though the Gungan warrior and the older Jedi Master seemed unfazed. He resigned himself to simply sitting out the ride, though the feeling of unease followed him.

Theed was a mess of activity. The people were crowding the streets, some panicked others almost serenely walking about. The Prime Minister's announcement was just finishing, though Obi-Wan couldn't make out quite what the last part of it was. The streets were packed, and they couldn't maneuver their commandeered transport through the mess.

"We'll have to walk." Qui-Gon declared, hopping down and pulling his cloak over his head. "Though I don't know how well we'll be able to get through the crowd…" his voice trailed off as Jar Jar leaped from the idle repulsor craft. Immediately a gap opened up in the crowd as they recoiled from the appearance of the old enemy of the Naboo settlers.

"Which way wesa goin'" He asked the master Jedi, who raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"Obi-Wan, you've studied the maps of the area provided during the briefing, correct?"

"Yes Master. I think I can find the way."

"Well, let's hurry up before the people get over their shock and start reaching for weapons."

The procession of two cloaked Jedi and their seven foot tall companion making their way through the crowds that parted around them as though they carried some sort of disease.

They were stopped at the Palace gates. Managing to get to the front of the crowd with the same ease that had allowed them access through the packed streets, a young palace guardsman decided that it was time someone did something about the Gungan wandering their streets. Weapons had come out.

"Lower your weapons." Qui-Gon said in that commanding tone he employed so successfully in disputes across the Galaxy. They blasters wavered but remained upright. Obi-Wan detected more than a hint of the Force in the message.

"The Queen has no time for meeting petitioners now! If you haven't heard, we're being invaded!"

"Do I look like a petitioner to you?" Qui-Gon's voice was not angry, or even especially loud. But it commanded attention, and most importantly, respect. He let his cloak fall open and at his side was his lightsaber. "I am a Jedi Knight on Republic business, and I must speak to the Queen."

The guardsman's eyes grew wide. "You _will_ let us through." Qui-Gon told him.

"I… Will let you through." The Guardsman said, slowly. Qui-Gon pushed past him, followed by Obi-Wan and Jar-Jar.

"Not now Obi-Wan." His mouth hadn't even started to open yet. "It's an emergency, and we could not be bogged down at the gates." Obi-Wan nodded, wondered how his master had known, but kept his mouth shut. Qui-Gon led the way through the palace grounds with an easy confidence. Obi-Wan followed him quietly. Jar-Jar, meanwhile, pretended not to goggle at the impressive structure. He was one of the few Gungans to see the inside of the Royal Palace, and he seemed to be ensuring that every detail was remembered.

There were certain commonalities to royal palaces, Obi-Wan noted. While the architecture varied, and the exact layout always differed, things were always set up a certain way. In the same way a wheel had to be round, features of royal palaces were common throughout the galaxy. There was the guard room, always near the entrance, great halls for guests, and usually in or near the middle, was the ruler's quarters. Qui-Gon had seen hundreds of palaces in his time, and while he paused for a moment here or there, he led them, without a guide, to where Padme Amidala, Queen of Naboo, was busily arranging for her departure. She was speaking with a man whose dark skin was broken with a lattice of scars around the eyepatch he wore. Coming in closer, Obi-Wan heard the tail end of their conversation.

"… so we should be able to, assuming the rest of the nobility does as you tell them."

"Very good General. I trust you to keep me updated. Use the old comms channels, they're stull secure."

They noticed the newcomers then. Typho's hand went for the blaster at his hip at the sight of not only two human intruders but a Gungan warrior. Padme reached for a slim pistol on the desk behind her. Before they could bring their weapons to bear, Qui-Gon spoke.

"Hold your fire! We're Jedi Knights, sent by the Supreme Chancellor to help with this problem with the Trade Federation."

"You're a little late for that." Typho said, leaving his weapon pointed at the floor. It would only take a moment for him to raise it up to the firing position.

"Yes, we were attacked in orbit by the Trade Federation when we attempted to begin a meeting. We escaped and came to warn you, though we were shot down and crash landed in the swamps to the west. This Gungan warrior saved myself and my partner from attack by droid scouts. They are not far away your majesty."

Qui-Gon's tone commanded attention, though not obedience, and his soft voice disarmed the threat of three unknown strangers deep in the palace.

Padme let her shoulders slump a little. "Thank you Master Jedi, we weren't sure how close they were to the city. It seems we have less time than we thought. General, are the preparations for fighting –"

She was cut off by Typho. "My lady, you need to leave now. If these Jedi are correct, we have less than half an hour until they arrive."

"Probably less, since it took us time to get through the city streets."

Typho cursed and spoke under his breath "Of course it did." Raising his voice once again, he continued "Then we need to get you off this planet now!"

A sudden explosion from the edge of the city emphasized his words. "We can help get you to the spaceport." Obi-Wan spoke. "The Senate does need to hear about this."

"Any help you can offer is much appreciated Master Jedi. But I must insist that the Gungan remains here." Padme spoke. Qui- Gon raised an eyebrow.

"You may insist all you like, but for the time being he is sworn to me. He goes where I go."

"You cannot expect the queen to travel with a savage like him!"

Obi-Wan glanced back at the Gungan in question, who was shaking. At first Obi-Wan believed him to be angry, though a second look revealed the massive warrior was holding in his laughter. He was amused by this! The argument continued until a second set of explosions quieted the scene and the queen relented.

"Very well. I trust you will ensure my safety?"

Qui-Gon turned and looked at Jar-Jar. The massive Gungan seemed to smile. "Oh yessa. Aya wonbeatin th'Queen." To Obi-Wan's ears, Jar-Jar's speech seemed to have taken on more of his accent, sounding almost more primitive and backwards. He shook his head slightly. The Gungan warrior was enjoying himself immensely at the implied threat his mere presence caused.

"Well, that's settled then. Where is the spaceport?"

"I can send a squad to lead you there."

Padme turned and grabbed a small bag from the table, holstering her blaster at her hip. "Then let's be off. The sooner we get to Courescant the sooner we can get the Trade Federation off my home."

General Typho handed her a slim datfile. "My lady. This is the report, along with the old codes, just in case."

"Thank you general." Padme gave him a small smile, clapping him on the shoulder, "I'll be back soon. Leave some for me."

The general blushed, or Obi-Wan guessed he did under his dark complexion. The sudden series of explosions shocked them back into action. They were much closer now, and it was time to leave.

They made it to the royal hanger unopposed, though the light crackle of blaster fire was rising in volume and tempo as the droid army reached the outer limits of the city. Louder blasts punctuated the crisp staccato as heavier weapons came into play. The hanger was mostly empty, save for an N1 Starfighter that had been in the midst of repairs when the call to arms sounded, and a larger transport ship. Like all Naboo designs it had a sleek grace full of curves and contours. A shiny chromed plating covered the hull, not just aesthetically pleasing but practical as well, for lighter blaster cannons could glance off the surface, if they came in at an angle. Not the best protection, but every little bit helped.

Padme led the way, followed closely by the small entourage that would be accompanying her to the Core. As far as Obi-Wan could tell, it was the bare minimum a ruler could have about them. A bodyguard who kept close to her charge, two ladies in waiting and her personal pilot. Throw in the two Jedi Knights and a local tribal warrior and it must have made an interesting sight.

"What sort of defences have you gotten on this ship?" Qui-Gon asked as they moved up the ramp.

"Besides the shields? A light cannon mounted on the back." Jan Ollsan, the pilot, told him. At Obi-Wan's shocked look he shrugged. "It's a diplomatic ship, Jedi. We normally fly with an escort, but I think they're a little busy now."

As if to punctuate his point, a large explosion rippled through the hanger.

"The fighters will make sure we get clear of the capital, after that we're on our own to get free of the planet." The voice of the bodyguard whose name Obi-Wan couldn't recall from the briefings, added. "They're keeping the Trade Federation vehicles at bay for now, but their fighters will be here soon."

The group settled into the ship. Jar Jar, while not used to the comforts of a spacecraft, was not the wide-eyed primitive that the Naboo thought him to be. Instead, he sat in the conference room, poured himself a glass of water and cocked an amused eye at the handmaiden who had escorted him there.

"Obi-Wan, can you man the turret?"

"Of course Master."

With that brief exchange, Obi-Wan left his master with the Queen and her bodyguard and made his way to the back of the ship, climbing into the ball turret. It was a little cramped but otherwise very comfortable, not that he had expected otherwise, given the state of the rest of the craft. He slipped on the headset and a quick comms check had him connected to the bridge, albeit a bridge composing of one very stressed pilot and a Jedi Master, instead of the normal complement. The pilot's voice chimed in his ear.

"Alright Jedi, we'll have fighter cover for the first leg of our trip but the Queen wouldn't take too many away from the defence of the city so stay sharp and keep them off our back."

"I'll do my best."

If Obi-Wan hadn't been in the turret, with its clear transperisteel canopy, he doubted he would have noticed their takeoff. The Naboo, it seemed, really knew how to build spacecraft. The view was not one he would have liked to see as they cleared the hanger however. The inner city and palace were still intact but barricades had been thrown up around the streets as the suburbs were burning. Blaster fire, the brilliant greens of the Naboo Royal Guard flickering every so often among the bright red of the more commercially available weapons erupted down a number of streets. Civilians not part of the militia were fleeing the city, though many were sticking around to fight as well. Dozens of smoking wrecks denoted the places where the Naboo had destroyed a hovertank or an armoured troop carrier. As they flew over the street fighting, Obi-Wan squeezed the trigger and the powerful blaster cannon designed for warding off Starfighters slammed into the packed groups of droids.

"Hold your fire, Jedi!" Came the orders from the pilot. "We're not here to help them, our job is to get the Queen to safety!"

"Apologies Captain. Just trying to help."

There was no reply, though the waves of stress that Obi-Wan felt through the force was enough. The ship was picking up speed, and as they left the city limits they were joined by a trio of ships, the yellow and chrome N1 Starfighters. Their course was towards the northern pole, and from there straight up and out.

They encountered no difficulties on their flight to the Pole, their powerful sensors allowing them to stay out of the way of the landing craft who were landing in the swamps and open plains across the continent. Soon they were breaching the atmosphere and entered space. Their escorts peeled off to return home, or more likely, a hidden base or other city since the capital had probably fallen by now.

"Keep an eye out for their fighter droids. If they find us before we get our course plotted, we're in for a world of hurt."

"Why is that?"

"They're droids, so they don't care if they live or die. It's essentially a powerful engine and a quartet of blaster cannons strapped together. They'll fly straight at us until we've been rammed."

"You have some experience dealing with them I take it?"

"Fought them a decade ago Jedi. Still alive."

The course, normally the work of a moment from the astromech droids or the navcom station would be the work of a few minutes, as the bridge crew lacked a dedicated navigation officer. Plus, they're probably picking routes that aren't well travelled. It wouldn't do to jump away from the planet only for them to wind up right where the Trade Federation expected them to be.

It wasn't a long time to wait, not really. But it certainly seemed like it was much longer, staring at the scanning equipment, gaze flickering occasionally to the planet below him. A sudden flurry of blips caught his attention.

"Captain, we've incoming fighters!" He called out.

"I see them. Shoot as many as you can, I'll make sure they don't ram us."

Qui-Gon's voice came on the network. "Obi-Wan, keep them off of us for just another minute or two. I'll have the course plotted by then."

"I will master."

"I know. May the Force be with you."

Wrapping his hands around the trigger mechanism more comfortably as he began tracking the approach of the first of what looked like many squadrons incoming. They only had to keep them off for a little longer.


	5. Chapter 5

The suns were hot. Not that they weren't normally scorching the expanse of desert on the planet he called home, but for some reason it felt extra warm today. Or maybe it was the gangers who were heating things up. Sebulba didn't normally have this much security in his shop, and Anakin had to wonder if that had to do with his debts or the new parts he had acquired in the last race. Probably a mix of both, and the trio of leather-faced Weequays eyed him up as he approached the counter.

"Ah, Anakin, my boy. So good to see you!" The nasally voice of Sebulba emerged loudly from behind the counter as the gangly Dug stood from where he had been working on something. He stretched, his long spindly limbs reaching far higher than one would expect from his small height. "I take it you're here to pay me what you owe me?"

"What I owe you? I seem to recall you owing me money, after the dive I took last time." That was, strictly speaking, untrue; he had been told to take a dive, but he hadn't planned on it until another racer forced him off the track.

"Is that so?" A snort, more of a verbal tic than an expression of amusement, leapt out of his nose. "Because from where I sat, it looked like you were going to win."

"Come on, I had to make it look good."

"Too good boy. If I hadn't had Wadrinaro take you out you would have cost me a lot more money." Sebulba hopped up on the counter, pointing an arm thick with wiry muscle at him. "And, you were already supposed to be out of the race by then."

"Like I said, had to raise the stakes. You wouldn't want the Hutts coming down on you for rigging their precious podrace, would you?" A desperate lunge, one that would sever his ties to Sebulba for a long time, though he probably wouldn't be coming back in any event.

"Anakin, Anakin, Anakin. They wouldn't believe the word of a slave."

"And here I thought Hutts loved their money so much they slept with it."

Sebulba laughed, though it was so obviously forced even his hired muscle had to wonder why he bothered. Unease rippled through Anakin, and it felt as though the laughter went on for far longer than it really did. Something was wrong. Information seemed to come in from everywhere at once. The Weequay were leaning forward as though getting ready to spring. One had a hand inside its jacket, holding something.

Anakin had had these feelings before, and he knew enough about them to know that something bad was about to happen. He was backing away when the next words left the loan sharks mouth.

"Get him."

Anakin, forewarned by, well something, was already moving. Crashing through the doors he ran down the dusty street as the curses of the Weequay followed him out of the shop. He just had to make it to lose them before finding out where Owen was, he had to make a delivery today and he always used the old repulsor-sled to carry the big canteens. Ducking into a dusty alleyway, he hoped his half-brother wasn't too hard to find.

"You folks doing alright?" The young man asked from the drivers seat of an old repulsor-sled. The two humans, or he assumed human, turned and he caught a better look at them, an older man he'd put at about 60, and a younger man about his own age. They didn't seem shocked to see him, for all that the sled was whisper quiet, but hands did drift close to what he could assume were holsters on their belts beneath cloaks.

"We're alright. Why do you ask?" the older man spoke with a calm authority, and it made Owen feel almost self-conscious about interrupting what was obviously a private group. There was a faint pulsing at the edge of his mind but a shake of his head and it was gone. The heat must be getting to him.

"Well, you're out in the desert without transport and you're a long ways from any settlement I know about."

"Our ship was damaged, and we had to put down wherever we could find a safe space to land. We're just headed to the nearest settlement for parts."

"Oh, you're headed to Mos Eisely? I have a delivery to make there, hop on!" He gestured to the repulsor-sled. There was an extra seat for a co-pilot and room in the back to sit between the canteens if you didn't mind a bit of discomfort.

They exchanged looks. The younger man didn't seem to want to accept, but as he opened his mouth to refuse, the older man acted. Moving on long graceful legs to the co-pilot's seat, he clambered in, extending a calloused hand towards Owen. "Qui-Gon Jinn. Thank you for your help."

Owen shook the offered hand. "Owen. Just Owen. And it's no problem. Like I said, I'm headed there anyway."

An audible sigh came from the younger man, eliciting a soft laugh from Qui-Gon, as the young man stepped into the sled. "Thank you for giving us a lift." He said, manners overcoming whatever apprehensions he held.

"Oh it's not a problem, you folk were on my way to town."

The trip was passed in silence after the rest of the introductions were made. Owen had gathered that the off-worlders weren't interested in making small talk. Still, he gathered that they were in a hurry to get flying again, and the fewer questions the better.

Entering city limits, Owen gave them directions to a parts merchant. "He's a crafty fellow, and he'll try and swindle you like any other merchant but Anakin swears he's mostly honest."

"Who's this Anakin?" The younger man, Obi-Wan asked.

"My half-brother, he's still a slave. Be able to buy himself his freedom by now if he didn't spend it all on the races."

"I was under the impression slavery was made illegal some time ago."

Owen gave a grim smile. "Call it 'Indentured Servitude' then. Republic law's on shaky ground out in these parts. I'd suggest you folks keep your heads down."

"Thank you for the advice. Any idea where we could find your brother?"

"He was supposed to be somewhere in town, he hitched a ride in early this morning with a Jawa group. Said he'd meet me here but-" The quiet bustle of the desert city was broken by a series of shouts, loud but low voices crying out as though in frustration or pain. Owen had been ready to ignore it but the two men with him rushed off to see. He watched them leave, and shook his head. Guess they don't know how Mos Eisley works. Still, he wished them luck and continued on his way, and was a little relieved that the strange off world group wasn't going to drag him into any sort of trouble.

"What could have caused that Master?" Obi-Wan asked, a little breathless as they rounded a corner.

"Whatever it was, it was angry." Qui-Gon replied, his breath coming heavier than his former Padawan's. He thought back, to a mission he and his former master had been on, and they had been chasing a figure shrouded in a black miasma, oozing fear and hatred. This was a similar feeling, if only in the scope of power. The feelings mixed in with the eruption of power had been anger, but fear and panic as well. Whatever it was, he hoped he and Obi-Wan could handle it.

Anakin had been able to keep ahead of his pursuers, though only just. They seemed to always know where he went, though he would have bet that he knew the city better than almost anyone. Alleyways that he could have sworn had multiple exits were blocked, or crowded and when he tried to get to the rooftops he lost his footing and fell back to the streets. He hadn't landed heavily and had been up and running a moment after he hit the dirt. But no matter how quickly or cleverly he ran, the trio were right there behind him. Sebulba must really want him dead.

A few more attempts were made to lose the pursuing Weequay, and like the others, they ended in failure. Frustration grew within him, and anger at the fact that he was being hunted like some sort of animal simply because Sebulba wanted to squeeze an extra bit of money from a race he had already made barrels of cash on. He found himself in a blind alley, the far end blocked by a stack of scrap lumber, pieces that weren't second hand so much as they were eighth or ninth hand. Wood was valuable on a desert after all. Turning to try and leave he found the entrance blocked by the Weequay. They didn't bother to speak, simply pulling out knives. Professionals then, not bothering with threats or boasts. He backed away until the stack of lumber was directly behind him, and something swelled within him. It was like the feeling he had in the shop before, and he had felt it other times, a sort of swelling in his gut that warned him of danger. Not that that was helpful now, but it was a stronger feeling. He shouted, or thought he did at least, and his vision went black as the thugs advanced on him.

Note: I changed this chapter after writing a bit more, and realising that I didn't like this being the first introduction between Anakin and Padme. Also, it didn't make sense for the person they were supposed to be guarding come along to what was supposed to be a dangerous planet. There were plans to try and explain that in future chapters, but I figured it would just be easier to leave her on the ship. She wouldn't add anything to the story by meeting Anakin now, and as it is she was taking away from Anakin meeting the Jedi, and devolving into a snarky young adult. Which, while an acceptable character trope, was not the direction I want to go with Padme.


	6. Chapter 6

The scene that greeted his eyes was, in a word that managed to encompass the scope, impressive. Or perhaps awesome in the full implication of the word. The mangled bodies were visible, if only just, amidst the wreckage of old wood. The damage was worse for the condition, as the material had been splintered and this shrapnel had stabbed where the wood itself would have simply bludgeoned. This had been the nexus of what he and Qui-Gon had felt, a sudden massive surge of power that he had never felt, even living in the temple all these years among the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy. He had stopped at the entrance of the alley, as though he had run into a wall. The raw emotion that was emanating from here forced him to take in a breath while he tried to figure out what had happened.

Qui-Gon was already in the alley, ignoring or overcoming the same impact that had stopped his former apprentice. He was kneeling near a few stacks of wood, the pile that had supplied the ammunition for the carnage. He was speaking, though it was softly and he couldn't make out the words.

Anakin opened his eyes. He was lower than he should have been, and realised, as his sense came back to him, that he had fallen at some point. He tried to raise his head but felt drained of all energy, as though he had been up for days without sleep. He became aware of a voice as sound slowly entered his world again. It was a strange voice, oddly accented. But it felt safe. There was a feeling in his head, something that seemed to be reassuring him that the voice could be trusted, should be trusted. It was like the feelings he had before, but the sound was different than normal. The comforting noise eventually resolved itself into words, and those words unwound themselves into a question. "Who are you?" The voice was asking. "What's your name?" There were other words there too, words that weren't questions but were reassuring. He felt, for the first time in his life, safe.

"Anakin Skywalker." He managed to say, even raising his head to look at the source of the voice. An older man was speaking to him. His face was careworn, and deep lines of worry were much in evidence. He caught a glimpse of metal clipped to the man's belt, and then blackness rushed to meet him again.

The cause of this destruction lay before Obi-Wan, limp and seemingly lifeless. It was a boy, small for his age, perhaps five or six years behind him, though that could very well be the result of a poor diet. He knelt beside his master. "This boy was responsible for this?"

"One so young, and so powerful." Qui-Gon spoke, but it wasn't to him. Had Obi-Wan not been right beside him it is likely that he wouldn't have even heard the words. "Yes, he was." His voice was louder now. A slight smile appeared on his face. "The Force works in mysterious ways, Obi-Wan."

"Why do you say that?"

"He's that moisture farmer's little brother." A soft chuckle. "And even if he wasn't, I'd still like very much to talk to him."

The old master laid a hand on the forehead of the unconscious teenager, and closed his eyes. He relaxed his entire body, and let out a long, slow breath. As the air ran out, Anakin woke up.

Shocked and disoriented were not good signs to have upon opening your eyes, not anywhere but especially not in Mos Eisley. So Anakin sat bolt upright and was rising to his feet before he fully registered what was before him, and the memories came flooding back, and he stopped, in a half crouch, and swayed a moment before leaning against the wall. The owner of the voice, which he had half thought to be a dream, was still in front of him, along with another, younger man dressed in the same brown robes. Beyond the pair was a mass of wood and…

At the sight of that, he gulped in air as if to fight a rising tide of bile. He had killed them. He remembered now, though at the time he would have sworn not knowing. Shattering the old wood, scored and burnt, broken and fragile, yet still sun baked and strong. Hurling the mass at the three that had chased him. More than that, it had felt good.

All of that passed in an instant, and then he was rising again. Fighting not to sway on unsteady feet, he spoke. "Who are you?"

The older man looked out of it, his eyes were closed and a thin film of sweat that Anakin was almost certain had nothing to do with the heat covered his forehead. It was the younger man who answered. He looked a bit like Owen would, if Owen wasn't a moisture farmer on a planet where water was precious. Same age too. The voice was different from his brother's exasperated tones though. More measured.

"This is Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I'm Qui-Gon Jinn." The older one spoke. It was the same voice he remembered it being, though there was a harder edge to it now. "Oddly enough, we met your brother on the way in."

"Owen!" This shocked Anakin back into focus, and away from the attractive woman. "How did you know I'm his brother?"

"He told us about you. Said you could help us."

"Help you do what?"

"Fix our ship. The hyperdrive is fried and some other, minor components are missing."

"Look, I don't know what my brother told you but the one time I worked on a hyperdrive, it was a fluke, I have no idea why it started working again. The other stuff I could maybe fix, if I knew what it was."

"Easy there." The old man, Qui-Gon, held up his hands. "We've gotten a mechanic, we just need parts." The younger man, Obi-Wan, gave the barest hint of rolling his eyes. "Owen told us you knew a dealer who is mostly honest?"

"Oh," Anakin suddenly felt as though he were deflated, "that's for the best I suppose, I wouldn't want to mess up anyone's way out of this system. Yeah, I can take you to Watto, no problem."

"Thank you. Is it far?"

"Not really, maybe ah," he paused, figuring out the conversion between the local time pieces and the galactic standard, "twenty minutes? Maybe more than that, but I think it's twenty."

"Time enough then." Qui-Gon spoke quietly, and before Anakin could ask what he meant, he was talking again. "You wouldn't mind answering a few questions on the way, would you?"


End file.
